


when you get caught between the moon and new york city

by chxrylblossom



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Endgame Pezberry, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Minor Brittana, New York City, and secret gay feelings, but mostly rachel/santana friendship, kind of, kurt/rachel/santana friendship, or is she, rachel is oblivious, santana is in denial of her big gay feelings for rachel, they’re actually friends in new york
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-10-26 19:28:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 9,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20747513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chxrylblossom/pseuds/chxrylblossom
Summary: leaving lima has seemed like the goal, ever since santana was old enough to recognise the painful emptiness that is the lives of the middle-aged dwellers who have long since lost sight of their dreams and life ambitions - all of them destined to live out their days mulling around aimlessly in a soulless town. santana has never had any intention of letting herself become one of them. she has far too much potential.and yet, now that she’s actually here, in the big apple itself, experiencing the city in all of its ‘glory’… the idea of slipping back into the familiar lull of lima is something that has never seemed quite so appealing.orthe one where santana moves to new york after a painful breakup with brittany and falls in love with rachel





	1. leaving it all behind

**Author's Note:**

> so this is a little mini series i’ve been working on. i’ll probably update every day (ish). this first chapter is the shortest so they’ll be longer don’t worry. 
> 
> hope you enjoy :)

It’s not her first time on an airplane, but it is her first time flying alone. The last time she had been flying to New York city, Brittany had been sitting right beside her, holding her hand and stroking her knuckles carefully despite how vehemently Santana insisted that she wasn’t afraid. 

Halfway through the flight Brittany had convinced her that a quickie in the tiny toilet cubicle was not only a good idea but something that they absolutely had to do, something about joining  _ the mile high club _ . It was cut short by Quinn banging on the door and hissing that everyone could hear them, and they had to make the most embarrassing walk of shame back to their seats with Puck sniggering into his jacket and Mr Shue pretending he couldn’t see them. 

The memory brings a fond smile to Santana’s face, and she pulls the hoodie that she’s wearing tightly around herself, trying to imagine that it still smells of Brittany, even if she’s washed it two or three times since her girlfriend… ex-girlfriend, last wore it. 

Wow, three weeks and she’s still not used to that. 

She’s most definitely not scared of the fact that they’re flying thousands and thousands of feet above the ground with the constant, very realistic threat of plunging to their inevitable deaths should the engine crap out, or the pilot nod off at the controls, but… Well, if she  _ was _ scared, she would definitely want Brittany with her right now, sitting beside her and holding her hand, just like she had done two and a bit years ago. 

Brittany’s always been with her for the scary parts, and even if Santana has never been able to admit when she’d afraid, Brittany always knows. Their whole life, ever since they were five years old and playing in the kindergarten sandpit together, they’ve been by one another’s sides, and Santana isn’t sure that she’ll be able to adjust to a life where she has to face things alone. 

So she tugs Brittany’s old hoodie tighter around herself, closes her eyes, and imagines that Brittany is right here with her.


	2. the city of dreams

At first, Santana thought that coming out to New York would change everything. She thought that leaving behind Lima and Louisville and in turn all of her problems, and moving to  _ the city of dreams _ would fix everything wrong with her life. It was bound to be the solution to renovate her life for good, especially after the breakup. 

And maybe it is at first. The initial few days spent roaming West Village with awestruck eyes, drinking chai lattes in Central Park, and even dipping into what had previously been her college fund to buy a ticket to the off-Broadway rendition of  _ Forever Tango _ . But there’s something about going through all the motions of the big city alone, that makes it all feel so…  _ empty _ . It’s so different to how she remembered it those years before when she came with the New Directions. 

With Brittany. 

And returning in the evening to her hotel room, full of the suitcases that she doesn’t have anywhere to unpack, and a double bed that she has no one to share with. 

Her thoughts always stray to Brittany (whose hoodie she wears like a comfort blanket) wondering what she’s doing…  _ how _ she’s doing. Whether she’s taking her senior year seriously this time around, whether she’s able to make it to classes by herself, whether she’s surviving it all without Santana there to help her anymore. 

Wondering if Brittany feels as desperately lonely as she does. 

Leaving Lima had seemed like the goal, ever since she was old enough to recognise the painful emptiness that was the lives of the middle-aged dwellers who had long since lost sight of their dreams and life ambitions, and were destined to live out their days mulling around aimlessly in a soulless town. Santana has never had any intention of letting herself become one of them. She has far too much potential. 

And yet, now that she’s actually here, in the Big Apple itself, experiencing the city in all of its glory… The idea of slipping back into the familiar lull of Lima is something that has never seemed quite so appealing. 

But no, she  _ won’t _ . Heading back to Lima would mean admitting defeat, admitting she was wrong. Admitting that in New York, a city so renowned for having something for  _ everyone _ , Santana still couldn’t find a dream, find a home?

No. She won’t do that. 

And so with great hesitation and a little reluctance, she decides to seek out the only two people who may prove to be a little pocket of home in this daunting new city. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> your kudos and comments make my day!!


	3. who’s come knocking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have nothing against louisville.

The look of surprise on Lady Hummel and Berry’s faces as they open the door to see her is one that she’ll never forget. The sheer comedy of their cartoon-like reactions would make Santana double-over in laughter if she wasn’t taut with nerves over the possibility that they could slam the door in her face at any second and she would have nowhere to go. It would be fair for them to do so, quite honestly, it’s not as though they owe her anything further than plain hostility after the four years of inexplicable torture they had endured under her reign of terror at McKinley High.

“Santana, it’s- you’re here,” Kurt says, as if he’s checking that he’s understanding the situation correctly, that he isn’t having some kind of nightmarish hallucination. And just as soon as he speaks, his eyes fall to the bags beside her, and a little more horror fills his eyes, “With suitcases.”

“That’s right, Lady face,” she says, and winces slightly at her inability to curb her snark, because it might be an idea to try and act at least a little cordial when she’s practically inviting herself into someone else’s home… but that’s just not how Santana Lopez works. “I just couldn’t stay away from my favourite Broadway Twins.”  _ Better _ . 

Rachel watches her doubtfully, for a few seconds, a familiar furrow forming in her brow as she studies Santana closely. “Why aren’t you in Louisville? What happened to college?” she asks, and Santana swallows harshly at the question, but does her best to take it in her stride. 

“I dropped out. Louisville isn’t for stars, New York is. I… flew out here on Monday and I’ve been staying in a hotel for a few days. This is where I need to be, not Loserville.”

“What about Brittany?” 

Santana bristles, subconsciously clinging onto the fabric of Brittany’s hoodie tighter and pursing her lips together, into a line. “What  _ about _ her? We broke up,” she says, tipping her head dismissively as if the words don’t feel like a thousand daggers in her heart. “I just need a place to stay. If you’re going to turn me away, just let me know, because the hotels get full quickly and I gave up my room this morning.”

Kurt and Rachel only exchange a wordless glance, before Kurt is moving forward and dragging one of her bags across the threshold. Santana tries to push down the gratitude she feels, because emotions like that are for suckers, but for some reason she forces herself not to pull away when Rachel squeezes her shoulder and leads her inside. 

And maybe she even smiles when Kurt lays her bags down on the living room floor and gestures to the couch with a, “Your sleeping quarters, your highness,” in a manner that is almost too much to bear. 

Almost. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you’re enjoying it thus far :)


	4. magic and dreams

Times Square isn’t quite the same as Santana remembers it, when she stood here two years ago, hand in hand with Brittany and marvelling at the sheer volume of this unexplored magical city. 

Yes, it’s still big. Yes, it’s still loud and busy and probably every bit as full of magic and dreams, but… this time rather than standing beside the girl she previously believed to be the love of her life, she’s standing beside Rachel who hasn’t stopped talking since they left Bushwick this morning. It’s not irritating as such (not that she’d ever admit that, Santana Lopez would go to the grave swearing that every breath Rachel Berry takes causes an intense aggravation of every cell in her body) but it’s still not the same, either. 

And Santana’s just not used to things without Brittany yet. 

“... And  _ that’s _ the story behind Barbra’s iconic single with Neil Diamond.”

Sucking in a sharp breath of air through her teeth, Santana gives a tight smile and casts her gaze over to Rachel. The conclusion of the all too lengthy, not at all interesting Barbra Streisand biography that Rachel’s been singing into her ear for the last hour is a pleasant relief; even if it had made for good entertainment to watch the faces of the people on the metro unable to help but hear as Rachel spewed out a thousand words a minute. 

“Absolutely fascinating.”

For once, the sarcasm doesn’t go over Rachel’s head, and she sighs heavily, falling silent for only a moment longer before she steps close to Santana again and slides her arm through the other girl’s. “I’m just trying to fill the silence, Santana. You’re being an unusually bad conversationalist today,” Rachel says, giving a small pout that has Santana rolling her eyes. 

Tipping her head down slightly to look at Rachel and resisting the small, outdated urge to shake the hobbit off her arm, Santana purses her lips and nods. “Yeah, well, it’s just hard is all,” she says, and then feeling she should probably elaborate a little, adds, “Without Brittany.”

A look of understanding washes over Rachel’s face, and she’s gripping Santana’s arm a little tighter. “I know it must be hard. I felt entirely bare and alone when I first arrived in New York. Without Finn or Kurt, or anyone.”

Santana swallows and nods, casting her eyes around the bustling crowds surrounding them. “It’s just so weird. I’ve done everything with her, since we were five years old, and being in New York… doing all these things that are meant to be so amazing and fun, all without her? It just doesn’t feel right. I feel… alone.”

Obviously not having expected that level of honesty (Santana hadn’t intended to bare her soul quite that much, either) Rachel is silent for a few moments, although it’s barely noticeable over the city noises surrounding them. Then she turns to face Santana, a smile on her face as she grips her elbow and stares up at her. 

“But you’re not alone, okay? You’re the furthest thing from it. And I know it’s not the same, and maybe you still hate me a little bit, but… You’ve got me, Santana, you’re not alone.”

Rachel’s compassion is something far beyond Santana’s comprehension. How one can be so kind to the person who made their life a living hell for four years, is at large a mystery to her. How someone can be so ridiculously forgiving is simply a foreign concept. 

And so she finds herself smiling back, even if she doesn’t intend to, the happy gleam in Rachel’s eyes reminding her a little of Brittany (not that she would acknowledge that aloud, nor to herself, ever). “I don’t hate you, Rachel. Maybe I did once upon a time, but I don’t anymore.”

“Really?” 

“Yeah.”

“Not even a little bit?” Rachel’s lips curl upwards and she makes a gesture of pinching her fingers together. 

Santana pauses, noting the playful tone to Rachel’s voice and she shrugs, adding teasingly, “Okay, but only sometimes, like when you’re doing your vocal runs at three in the morning.”

Rachel laughs, a loud and genuine laugh that Santana’s never witnessed before, where she throws her head back slightly, eyes narrowing with the intensity of her smile. It seems to be utterly carefree, and authentic, and although it’s a subconscious thought, Santana finds herself glad that New York has allowed Rachel to grow into herself in this way. 

It seems she’s finally becoming the Rachel Berry that she was always just on the cusp of being. 

“Okay, come on. It’s officially my mission to instill the spirit of  _ The City of Dreams  _ within you. And that all starts with ice cream and watching the sunset from The High Line. You in?”

Unable to think of a reason why not, Santana sucks in a breath and nods. 

“Sure. Show me how it’s done, Berry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave comments and stuff if you like, they make me smile :)


	5. not so alone anymore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay hello

Watching the sunset from The High Line was nice. 

Watching the sunset from The High Line  _ with Rachel Berry _ , was nice. 

They got ice creams, and Rachel insisted on dramatising their stroll down the walkway, even going as far as to smudge a gloop of ice cream onto the tip of Santana’s nose in a flurry of good-natured joy. She pranced around energetically like some kind of baby animal skidding on ice, and eventually tugged Santana down onto a bench to watch the orange globe in the sky disappearing over the tops of the city’s sky scrapers. 

They stayed as the sky turned red, and then pink, then orangey-yellow, then purple and dusky blues; and then Rachel said they should start to head home. 

“This is fine and all, but Bushwick is a whole other ball game in the dark.”

Santana had snorted softly, dumping a crumpled up napkin - the last remnants of her ice cream - into a trash can as they passed. “You forget, I grew up in Lima Heights Adjacent. Santana Lopez knows how to navigate rough areas.”

Laughing softly, Rachel had patted her arm lightly making Santana wonder whether she’s just lost her edge or if Rachel’s learnt over time that taking her words at face value isn’t always wise. 

Now, though, Santana’s sitting in her little makeshift cordoned off area of the apartment, curled up in the tiny armchair they’d stuffed in at the foot of the mattress bed, sipping at Rachel’s nightly blend of chamomile tea. Rachel insists that it’s good for your vocal chords, and Santana is doing well at being relatively non-hostile at the moment, so she reluctantly accepted with only a little fuss and turns out it’s not awful. 

In her other hand, she’s clutching her phone tightly. Around this time of night is when it’s hardest to resist sending Brittany a message, or trying to Skype her. Not only is she wishing that she could just crawl into bed beside her, feel Brittany’s arms around her (yes, she’s a little spoon, no, she would not admit that fact at gun point) but she just wants to talk to Brittany about her day. 

She wants to tell her how pretty the sunset was, how for once she’s getting along with Rachel Berry, how New York is beautiful and wonderful, but not as much without her… She wants to tell Brittany all these things, more than anything. 

But Brittany’s back in Lima, repeating her senior year, and Santana’s out here… in New York. A city packed full of new opportunities, new people, new experiences… 

Texting Brittany is a step backwards, erasing a little of her minimal progress forward, and if today’s shown her anything, it’s that… she doesn’t want to go backwards. Only forwards. 

That’s why she’s glad for the distraction when Rachel bursts through the little privacy curtain, dragging Kurt along with her. She has a proud smile on her face and one hand behind her back as though concealing something. “Okay, sit down and listen - you’re both going to  _ love  _ me,” she says excitedly, pushing Kurt down to sit on the end of Santana’s bed and taking a step back. 

Santana blinks in surprise at the sudden, brisk intrusion, looking between her two new ‘roommates’. 

“When she gets like this I’ve found its best to just humour her,” Kurt says in a stage whisper, and Rachel huffs, shoving his shoulder playfully. 

“Listen! I just pulled some strings, and guess what I managed to get?”

“A plane ticket back to Israel?” Santana asks, unable to resist, because,  _ come on  _ she was asking for it. After a beat though (and a chastising yet amused glance from Kurt) she adds, “Kidding.” 

Rachel rolls her eyes, bringing her hands round in front of her, suddenly brandishing what looks like tickets, grinning once more. “Three tickets for the limited revival run of _Evita_, for tomorrow night!” Rachel says, voice emanating in such a high octave that for a moment Santana thinks she might be imitating the call of a howler monkey. 

Then her eyes widen and she looks down to the tickets. Those are notoriously hard to get, and she can’t believe Rachel was able to snag them for the night before. “No way!” 

Kurt is also joining Rachel in their harmonious, synchronised monkey screeches, jumping up and down and hugging her, and Santana briefly wonders whether her eardrums are going to survive this ordeal.

“This is so exciting,  _ so  _ exciting!” Kurt says, between unintelligible squawks, pulling back slightly to draw Santana into their hug. “You haven’t been to New York until you’ve seen a Broadway show, and oh, what better than  _ Evita _ !”

Santana can’t help but give way to a laugh, allowing them to vent their excitement in the form of uncomfortable physical contact for a few moments before pulling away. “Exciting as it is, does that mean you’re now going to force me to sit through the film?”

“You know it!” Rachel grins, wrapping her arms around Santana’s neck. “Come on, you love Madonna. And I promise I’ll only replay  _ Buenos Aires  _ three times?”

Rolling her eyes, Santana huffs for a few moments before giving a begrudging nod. It’s not really serious, though, because for the first time in the last few weeks, in the close proximity of the grinning ear-to-ear Munchkin twins, she doesn’t feel quite so alone. 

The warmth of being included in their mystifying yet secretly enjoyable little world is enough to slightly lessen the void of loneliness that sits inside of her. And although she never thought Lady Hummel and Rachel  _ Barbra Streisand  _ Berry, would be the ones to help her through the bitter aftermath of her painful breakup… 

Well, let’s just say Santana’s not complaining. 


	6. the tides are changing

“That was marvellous.”

“A theatrical masterpiece.”

“Mind blowing.”

“Incredible.”

“Yeah, it was good.”

Kurt and Rachel pause their adjective table tennis to spare Santana a glance, both of their eyes matchingly wide in surprise. 

“Santana, I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt here and assume that you simply lack the vocabulary to adequately convey the true _ excellence _of the performance we just witnessed,” Rachel says, hooking her arm through Santana’s as they make their way out of the foyer. “Because that… goodness, I aspire to be that good someday.”

Santana chuckles, surprised when the need to pull her arm from Rachel Berry’s hold in such a public setting doesn’t follow the action. “You’re better than that, Berry. It was good, but your almost unbearably loud renditions over the film last night were better,” Santana says, not really thinking about what she’s saying until the words have left her mouth, and by that time it’s too late. 

Both of the Broadway twins do a double take, Rachel’s eyes especially wide as she stares at Santana. Then, slowly, her face breaks out in a smile and Santana groans, making a fleeting wish for the sidewalk to open up and swallow her whole. 

“Santana Lopez, was that a _ compliment _?” Rachel asks, voice heavy with teasing, but Santana can tell from the excited sparkle in her eye that she’s ecstatic. 

“Shut up,” Santana grumbles, rolling her eyes and promptly shifting her attention away from Rachel, even though she can still see her smiling at Kurt in her peripheral. 

There’s no way that she’s going soft on Rachel Berry. Sophomore Santana would be gagging in disgust. 

“Aw you love us,” Kurt says, reaching over to poke her arm, a gesture that she receives with a glare in his direction. 

She’s obviously unable to convince them of her disgruntlement, though, because they’re both still smiling, and after a while she’s unable to help but smile too. “Whatever,” she mutters, hurrying to change subjects. “Where to now? Home?”

Kurt and Rachel share a small knowing smirk that Santana can’t quite decipher. 

“Are you kidding?” Rachel asks, nudging Santana in the ribs lightly. “It’s your first Saturday night with two true New Yorkers in _ The City That Never Sleeps _, there’s far too much to do for us to go home! I know a little Broadway hangout stroke nightclub near here that’s open all hours.”

Santana stares at her for a second, unsure if anyone aside from Rachel actually calls New York that, but then she shrugs a little and tilts her head. “Impressive, Berry, I didn’t have you pegged as a party girl,” Santana wiggles her eyebrows, smile widening. 

“Well, maybe New York’s changed me,” Rachel responds playfully, but Santana has to agree. 

And that’s not her inexplicable hatred of sixteen year old Lima Rachel Berry rearing its head, but it’s because she can see how ‘in her element’ Rachel is here. She’s lost the tense, uptightness that she used to carried around in high school. She’s stopped allowing the constant anxiety of judgement to define her, and started to loosen the reigns a little. 

She’s really honestly _ happy _here, in a way Santana never saw her being in Lima (and yes, okay, that means Santana finds her marginally more tolerable now). 

But as Santana tips her head with a smile of agreement, allowing Rachel to link their arms tighter and crush her body close to shy away from the cold breeze, she finds herself thinking that, maybe… 

_ Maybe _ New York’s changing her too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to everyone who’s reading :)


	7. moving in and up

Santana doesn’t think much of it when she starts unpacking the contents of her bags onto the little rolling clothes racks that Kurt and Rachel seem to have an abundance of in their apartment. She barely spares it a second thought when she only has to reach to the shelf to find her exfoliator rather than into her toiletries bag, or when she finds herself leaving her toothbrush in the holder rather than putting it away again. 

These little things that she’s doing only start to register with her one morning a little over two weeks into her stay with Kurt and Rachel. She’s brewing a fresh pot of coffee because it’s late morning and Rachel consumes an ungodly amount of coffee in the time between her awakening and everyone else’s. 

“Santana, did you borrow my hairbrush?” Rachel calls from the bathroom, and Santana rolls her eyes at the shrill ring of the shout, but finds it’s more of a fond acknowledgement than an irritated one for once (which is surprising, but she doesn’t allow herself to dwell on it). 

“Yeah, it’s in my room!” she calls back absentmindedly, and after a second her hand freezes on the kettle handle. Oh. 

_ Oh _ .

She hasn’t given much thought to the permanency of her residence with Kurt and Rachel, but then again, the thought of moving out into her own apartment feels weird and lonely, even if she would have more space than her little postage stamp bedroom (that’s technically only a few metres of space cordoned off by a curtain and a bookcase). 

Her arrival had been very unannounced, however, and although neither of them have said anything to indicate such, Santana worries that very soon her presence as a guest may become an unwelcome intrusion. What if she ended up overstaying her welcome and Kurt and Rachel, being the all too amicable and passive people that they are, didn’t quite know how to ask her to pack the hell up and leave?

This isn’t the kind of thing Santana usually worries about. She likes to impose her presence upon people, make herself known even in situations where she’s not necessarily wanted. She doesn’t  _ give  _ a damn what people think, because quite honestly she has a little bit of a superiority complex (even if, yes, a lot of that is just to cover up some of her deeper insecurities). 

But recently, Santana has found herself  _ liking  _ the easy nature of her relationship with Kurt and - especially - Rachel. The blood bath of their constant feuding in high school is long over, and Santana has been finding that getting along with Rachel is easier than it’s ever been. She’s even found that she doesn’t mind Kurt joining her in watching  _ Rizzoli & Isles _ on Tuesday evenings. 

So the idea of being an unwanted presence bothers her, it bothers her to the point that she forces herself to start coming up with a contingency plan, in anticipation of the day she’s kicked out on her ass. 

She snatches the apartment listings from Kurt’s daily newspaper in the mornings, and for the next two days does her best to stick to the confinements of her room, trolling the internet for nearby,  _ cheap  _ availabilities. As irrational and over-dramatic as it may be, Santana’s not used to feeling so wanted and accepted by anyone but Brittany, and she knows she’s becoming less of an uptight bitch than she was back in Lima, but even so she still has her trepidations about the validity of her place here. 

Her behaviour is obviously odd enough to catch Kurt and Rachel’s attention, because on the third day of attempting to steal away immediately after breakfast, Rachel catches her arm with a tut and points to the living room. 

“Nuh uh, not so fast.  _ Sit _ .”

And so Santana sits, crossing her arms over her chest a little defensively and feeling a little like she’s in an interrogation as Kurt and Rachel take a seat on the couch opposite.  _ Is this it? Because she hasn’t found an apartment yet, and god knows she doesn’t want to go back to some crummy $100 a night hotel…  _

“Santana… We’ll be blunt, because that seems to be the best approach with you,” Rachel begins, and Santana prepares herself for whatever it is Rachel is going to say, because she’ll be damned if she’s going to allow herself to get upset over something that  _ Rachel Berry  _ says to her. No. 

Whatever it is, she’ll be fine. Santana Lopez copes fine on her own, always has, with an alcoholic mother and a workaholic father. A couple of weeks of feeling like she’s a part of a little ‘family’… that’s not going to change a habit of a lifetime. 

“You’ve been acting weird these past few days. And maybe a few months or even a few weeks ago I wouldn’t have found it too odd but… We thought we’d been getting on really well with you over the last couple of weeks and we, Kurt and I, just want to know what happened, what’s going on,” Rachel says, and her voice softens at the end, enough so to render Santana silent for a few moments before she splutters out a surprised,

“So you’re not kicking me out?”

It’s Rachel and Kurt’s turn to look surprised, both of them staring at her for a second before glancing at one another in such synchrony that it would make Santana laugh and roll her eyes in any other situation. But not now, she’s too busy doing her best to hide how relieved she is. 

“Of course not!” Kurt is the first to speak, sitting forward a little on the couch, “We like having you here, Santana, and as weird as this feels to say after our rocky past…”

“We want to know if you’d like to move in permanently,” Rachel interjects, voice raising a little in its pitch, sounding unusually excited. The way in which she questioningly tips her head like a curious Labrador puppy, a hopeful smile playing at her lips, is infuriatingly endearing to Santana. 

“It would mean paying a third of the rent, but we could definitely reorganise things to make your room a little bigger. And-”

Santana doesn’t wait to listen to whatever Kurt’s got to say. She doesn’t care about paying rent, she’d been expecting that anyway, and her college/New York fund will take care of that until she can find a job. 

“Yes,” she says, quickly, giving a fast nod of her head, fingers gripping onto the arm of the chair so tightly that her knuckles whiten. 

Rachel’s hopeful grin widens. “Yes, you’ll move in?” she asks. 

Releasing the breath of air she didn’t realise she’d be holding, Santana chuckles lightly at the enthusiasm, so unfamiliar when coming from Rachel. Unfamiliar, but not by any means unwelcome. 

“Yes. Yes, I’ll move in.”


	8. tying up loose ends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> howdy

Rachel and Kurt are ecstatic when Santana lands them a gig working at the Spotlight Diner. 

She’s been working there every evening for a good week and a half now, and it turns out that being a singing waitress actually isn’t as horribly gay as it sounds. (Plus, it pays the rent). 

Kurt and Rachel had almost keeled over in joy when they came for dinner there, unable to help squealing in glee and  _ irritatingly _ videoing the several times that Santana was forced to join her coworkers on the stage to partake in mortifying, extravagant theatrical numbers. Santana did her best to keep a begrudging grimace fixed on her face, but the sight of Rachel’s cheeks dimpling with her excited laughter was enough to melt it away. 

And so, yes, she showed Gunther her left side boob to get Rachel and Kurt a job too. It will help Kurt with keeping up rent payments because Vogue dot com doesn’t pay, after all, and Rachel… well, Santana just hopes that the job will make her smile like that all the time. 

Ugh, what is  _ happening _ to her? 

Thoughts like this have been arising more often, recently, and while Santana has been making a valiant effort to ignore them, it’s becoming a little more difficult each time. Since when has she cared about the pleasantry of smelling Rachel Berry’s strawberry shampoo every time she steps a little too close? And since when has she felt a small electric jolt when their hands or arms brush in passing? Since when has the slight variation in the colour of her lipstick from day to day  _ ever _ been a detail that Santana’s observed?

Maybe it’s becoming something of concern, but if there’s anything that Santana Lopez is good at, it’s sitting on and repressing unwanted or confusing feelings. 

So that’s exactly what she plans to do for now, because ruining the fragile balance of friendship that she’s finally found with Rachel - that is not something she’s going to do. 

Perhaps that’s why she strikes up a  _ flirtationship _ with Dani. 

She’s cute, she can sing and she’s one hundred percent sapphically oriented. Santana sees no potential harm in a little fun to steer her mind away from some other not so harmless, and  _ much  _ more confusing feelings. Plus Rachel and Kurt both seem to get along with her nicely. 

For the first time in a while, Santana feels like everything is finally falling into place. 

  
  



	9. say that you love me

“… I don’t know, he seems like he could be good for you. He’s a nice guy, Rachel, plus, have you seen his body? God, those  _ abs… _ ” 

Santana seems to be catching the tail end of a longer conversation as she saunters out of her bedroom and into the kitchen area, still clad in her pyjamas and most likely still adorning a tragic case of bed hair. She’s still half asleep, and hadn’t planned to get up until at least nine given that it’s a Saturday, but the unnecessary volume of Rachel and Kurt’s respective morning routines woke her up a little under half an hour ago.

The conversation does, however, pique her interest a little, and she finds herself curiously glancing over to the table where Kurt and Rachel are sitting with their backs to her. 

“Whose abs?” 

Rachel starts, all but jumping from her chair in surprise, “Jesus, Santana!”

Santana snorts softly, propping her elbows up against the counter as they turn to face her. “Who are we talking about? Your new boy toy, or Kurt’s?”

Rachel chuckles, pale pink lips stretching into a sheepish smile as Kurt gives her a very pointed look. “It’s not like that, he’s just a friend,” she begins, but Kurt rolls his eyes and nudges her in the ribs. 

“No he’s  _ not _ . He asked Rachel out and she told him she’d think about it. Three weeks later and she’s still thinking about it,” Kurt says, a grin on almost non-existent lips. 

Santana raises an eyebrow, looking over to Rachel, forgetting how to smile for a moment, because instead her face kind of just  _ twists _ . She forces herself to squish down the budding irritation that’s so intense it makes her chest physically hurt. She doesn’t miss the nervous twitch of Rachel’s eyes in her direction, and she doesn’t understand what it means, but she’s too absorbed in attempting to maintain a facade of normality to try to figure it out. 

“What’s stopping you?” Santana asks, voice taut, the idea of Rachel  _ dating _ someone making her feel like there are invisible claws ripping at her throat, for no tangible reason whatsoever. 

A nervous gulp follows the question, and Santana shifts her gaze from Rachel’s tight grimace to Kurt’s clueless smile as he nudges her teasingly. It makes her angry in a way that she hasn’t felt in a long time now, and she does her best to bite back the remarks that she so desperately wants to bark out. 

_ She’s not that person anymore. She doesn’t lash out at her friends when she’s angry _ . 

“Well, I think you should go for it,” she says, eventually, when the silence is too stifling to bear for much longer. Taking a few strolls over to the table, she slips into the seat opposite them, fixing her stare on Rachel. “I mean, Kurt has Blaine, I have… Dani. Get some, Berry.” She forces a smile, ignoring how guilty she feels at mentioning Dani although she’s not sure why. 

They’re not anything too serious yet, not girlfriends or anything like that… even though they _are_ officially dating now. But whatever _this _is that she’s feeling for Rachel… it’s nothing. There’s no way Santana has any serious feelings for _Rachel Berry_. Rachel’s just the first girl she’s spent a lot of time with since breaking up with Brittany (aside from Lady Hummel), and… Santana always cares about her friends intensely. She doesn’t half ass anything. 

It’s just a mess of confused emotions because the last time she had a best friend, she fell madly in love with her. And the other one, she had ended up sleeping with at Mr Shue’s wedding.  _ Twice _ . 

“Speaking of Dani, how’s it going with her?” 

Santana tenses and bristles a little at the unexpected question, spine stiffening as she straightens up. Rachel sounds characteristically optimistic about Santana’s newfound budding relationship, and there’s something about that fact that prickles her with disappointment. 

She knows it shouldn’t, it’s wrong, for so many reasons, and so she ignores the whirlwind of emotion that’s threatening her current sanity. 

So she purses her lips and nods quickly, maybe a little  _ too  _ quickly. “Yeah, it’s going good. Really good,” she says, her voice emanating in a pitch much higher than usual. 

Maybe Rachel catches it, maybe she doesn’t, either way, for a split second, Santana is certain she sees a falter in Rachel Berry’s usually steadfast front. Even so, it’s gone before Santana really has enough time to notice and so she does her best not to read too much into it. 

“That’s good, Santana,” Rachel’s lips curl upwards and she extends her hand to lightly squeeze Santana’s arm, the gesture prompting the girl in question to draw in a ragged breath of air. “I’m really happy for you.”

Either Kurt is  _ stupid  _ or just stupidly oblivious, because he smiles a teethless smile and claps his hands together. “How great is this? For the first time since we’ve been in New York, we’re all seeing people at the same time! We can triple date!”

Santana rolls her eyes, swallowing the heavy, growing lump in the base of her throat. “Yeah, maybe… Or something less lame than that.”

The silent stretches a little too long, and then Rachel draws in a sharp breath, adjusting herself in her seat, the famous Berry posture returning with rigid shoulders and chin held high. 

“I guess I’ll tell Brody yes, then,” she says as she sits up straight and fixes a broad smile on her face. It’s with teeth, and her cheeks dimple a little as they usually do when she smiles, but… 

It doesn’t quite meet her eyes. Santana can see the absence of happiness in almond brown orbs, nevermind if it’s clear only to her. Even Kurt squeals excitedly, not catching the ever so slightly downward turn of Rachel’s eyebrows. 

Santana catches it though. Of course she does - these days, not a single detail of Rachel Berry can escape her observation. And so even as she turns away from Rachel, even once she’s left the room, the furrow in Rachel’s brow and the sad shine of her eyes refuse to leave Santana’s mind for the rest of the day. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> penultimate chapter everyone. the last one is long.

Dani breaks it off with Santana. 

Her reasoning is vague at first, if that, but she does a lot of sad smiling and gripping Santana’s arm. 

Then Dani says that she thinks they’re “better suited for other people”, and as she says that, her gaze drifts over to Rachel, who’s currently placing a bedazzled party hat on a kid’s head across the other side of the diner. Following her gaze, and staring a little too long at bright honey-brown eyes and fusion pink lips curled into a warm smile, Santana feels a relatively unfamiliar affection curling into the pit of her stomach. 

“The thing is, Santana… A relationship can’t ever work out if you’re in love with someone else,” Dani says, unexpectedly, and Santana almost chokes on her own saliva. 

Wide eyes bore into Dani’s, and Santana tries to speak but for a few moments no words come out and she’s just gaping like a fish out of water. “I-I-  _ what _ ? Who’s in love with someone else?” she asks, eventually, and the mere insinuation of what Dani’s verging on suggesting burns her lips as she speaks the question. 

Huffing out a short, humourless chuckle, Dani squeezes Santana’s arm and meets her gaze with a shared intensity. “Come  _ on _ . You’re in love with Rachel, Santana, or at least very much in like with her, and I’d have to be blind not to have spotted that by now,” she says, and her lips curl upwards in an understanding way that makes Santana’s chest ache with guilt. 

“Dani, I…” she begins, but after a pause she trails off, stomach clenching. Up until this point, it’s been easier to ignore the feelings because it’s only been herself she has had to lie to, but now Dani’s looking her in the eye with all that  _ sincerity _ and… Santana doesn’t think she has it in her to lie. “I’m so sorry.”

Santana watches Dani’s shoulders deflate a little, and her upturned lips fall into a small defeated line. “I know,” she says, pursing her lips and giving a nod, “Just… I’ve seen the way you look at her, the way she looks at  _ you _ and it would be insane to let your obviously mutual feelings for each other go to waste.”

Blinking a few times in rapid succession, Santana replays Dani’s words in her head.  _ Obviously musial feelings _ . 

“Mutual? I-I don’t think so,” Santana shakes her head, swallowing the lump in her throat as she catches Rachel laughing in her peripheral vision, in that same way she used to think was awful and obnoxious but now…  _ fuck _ . 

Dani smiles, a breathy chuckle escaping her lips after a few moments. “I know my lesbians from my straight girls, Santana. Rachel may not be ready to hop on the tribadism train, but the heart eyes she gives you are definitely  _ not _ the straight kind.”

Santana chokes out a laugh, lowering her gaze with a heavy exhale that comes all the way from the pit of her lungs. “I am really sorry, Dani. You deserve to be with someone who only has eyes for  _ you _ , and not to make excuses for myself but I guess I didn’t realise the extent of my feelings for, uh, for…  _ her _ when we started this.”

“Yeah,” Dani chuckles lightly, and Santana feels the guilt again, because Dani really does deserve someone great. And part of Santana wishes she felt the same way about Dani as she does about Rachel instead, because honestly they’d probably be kind of perfect together in the long run. “Well, you know, if it works out between you guys then just remember that you have me to thank, okay?”

Santana decides she must be having one of her nice days (which admittedly seem to be coming around more frequently, recently) because she hugs Dani tightly before she can leave to put back the salt shakers, and whispers a very quiet, very uncharacteristic, “thank you.”

As short lived as that may have been, she knows that she’s now a step closer towards becoming New York Santana, and that’s thanks to Dani. Because yes, maybe she’s realised that in one way or another: this change heavily involves Rachel Berry. 


	11. this is home now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the last chapter. thanks for reading :)

“How would you feel about ditching Friday pizza night, and going out for dinner instead?”

The question had landed Santana a curious tip of the head and a slightly suspicious narrow of the eyes, but ultimately Rachel had agreed to ditch Lady Hummel for the evening and venture into the city for a meal, _ with her _. It was overall a better result than Santana had anticipated, and so the rest of the plan initially seemed as though it would be a smooth-sailing execution, but now that it’s actually just the two of them walking down the sidewalk in silence, Santana finds that she’s starting to grow a little anxious. 

It’s very out of character for her and she knows it - Santana Lopez doesn’t get anxious in the face of anything nor any_ one _, especially not Rachel Berry. But maybe it’s the lingering uncertainty of whether her heart can withstand another painful break just mere months after the Brittany-debacle. 

Either way, she’s not the only one who’s able to feel the thick tension following them like a grey cloud, and after a lull in conversation that extends for far too long after Rachel remarks on the color of the sky, the silence is broken. 

“I know that even on a good day you’re not as chatty as I am, but right now it appears as if you’re gunning for the world record in the most fragmented and monosyllabic conversation in all of history. And it’s not as though it’s within your rights to be all grumpy and awkward because it was _ you _ who invited _ me _out in the first place - not the other way round. So do you want to tell me what’s going on, or should I have a taxi home?”

As soon as Rachel finishes her mini soliloquy, Santana turns her head to look at her; pale cheeks a little flushed, honey brown eyes glowing with reflections from the unglamorous streetlights and a fuchsia pink lip sticking out in the subtlest of pouts. 

The sight brings a smile to Santana’s own lips, the petulance of Rachel’s expression serving to remind her that her nerves are uncalled for because even post her New-York-glow-up, this is still just the same Rachel Berry who used to post daily MySpace videos and stick a gold star beside every signature of her name. Still the same girl who was an angel to Santana, even in the face of all the shit thrown at her by the very person whom she displayed such kindness towards. 

“Sorry.” Santana sucks a breath of air in through her teeth, shoving her hands deeper into the pockets of her navy overcoat and tearing her gaze away from Rachel once more. “I know I’m being shitty conversation, I’m just… A little nervous about something.”

Rachel comes to an abrupt halt (in the middle of the sidewalk) earning a disgruntled grumble from the couple who had been walking behind them, and Santana tugs her away from the road and in towards the shopfronts they’re passing. 

“Nervous about what?” Rachel asks, demeanour no longer irritated, now simply concerned, and the almost instant switch of emotion is something that Santana finds amusing and also… perhaps, endearing. 

Taking a shivering breath as she glances up the street, Santana drops her hand to her side again and shakes her head. “Not here,” she says simply. She’s almost certain there’s a drug deal going down about five feet to their left, and she’s got one heel in a puddle of _ something _(it hasn’t rained in over a week), so this isn’t really the ideal setting. 

“Where do you want to go?” Rachel asks, without missing a beat. 

Despite being entirely aware of how awfully cliché and nauseatingly _ romantic _it would be for her to pick this location, were she in some kind of crappy rom-com, Santana asks, “The High Line?”

And without any hesitation Rachel agrees, and so a subway ride later, she finds herself wandering down the High Line, sipping at a questionable hot chocolate that Rachel had bought from a street seller, insisting Santana was shivering. 

The dim illumination that casts an almost angelic glow over Rachel’s face combined with the horrible snappiness of the situation they’ve currently landed themselves in, has Santana’s chest feeling heavy with a kind of emotion that she hasn’t felt in a long time. Maybe since that time that Brittany had insisted they go to the park in the middle of the night just to feed the ducks, and they had sat at the edge of the pond and just talked for hours. She’s pretty sure it ended with them making out on some gross graffitied bench, but it was romantic anyway. 

Rachel seems to understand that she’s deep in her feelings, because she doesn’t say anything but she smiles lightly every time that Santana lifts her head to look at her. And when she finishes her own hot chocolate, she even links her hand with Santana’s in a way that makes her swoon and wonder whether Dani could have been right about the requited nature of her feelings. 

“Dani and I broke up, you know,” she says, after a little while, unable to think of a better conversation starter for some reason. 

“Me and Brody too,” Rachel replies, and Santana has to do a double take because honestly she forgot about that guy, and she’s not even sure she knew that he and Rachel ever became an actual _ thing _. “Well, we went on two dates and I told him it wasn’t going to work out.”

Santana hums, fingers brushing over the backs of Rachel’s knuckles absentmindedly. “No one with great abs is ever fun to be around.” It’s all she can think of, although she’s not even sure if it’s true because Brittany’s were always pretty great. 

“_ You’re _ fun,” Rachel says, and it takes a second for the penny to drop, but when it does Santana huffs out a laugh and looks away before Rachel can catch the flush of her cheeks. 

“Yeah, well, I’m a lot of things.” Santana attempts nonchalance, but she’s not sure how well her feigned egotism plays off when she’s literally holding Rachel’s hand. 

“Well right now one of those _ things _ is nervous, so why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you?” Rachel asks, tone so soft and sincere that it would have made Santana want to take a swing at her a year ago, but now it just makes her insides feel ridiculously warm and mushy. 

Stupid feelings. 

Even so, she swallows harshly and nods as she takes a few more steps forward in sync with Rachel. “There’s nothing bothering me, as such, there’s just… something I have to tell you. And it could either go really well, or really badly. And if it goes badly I’m worried I might have to move to Canada, adopt a bear cub and raise it, just to let it maul me to death.”

Rachel bites back a smile, and that’s a comfort because at least she doesn’t lose her humour in times of crisis. “Whatever it is, I promise either way, you won’t have to move to Canada… or get mauled by a bear. You trust me, don’t you?”

Santana grits her teeth and nods: _ More than you know _. “Yes.”

“Good. So go on, tell me.” Rachel slowly brings them to a halt, circling around to stand in front of Santana and gently gripping her other hand.

The open sincerity of her expression, the gentle warmth of her eyes, the soft upward curve of her lips in that goddamn _ adorable smile _… it’s almost too much to take, and Santana can feel the words beginning to get stuck in her throat. So she takes the leap, choking them out in one breath while her airways will still allow it. 

“I like you, Rachel, like, I really like you, in a really gay way that is probably not something you’re used to or anything, because you’ve only been with guys, like Finn and that Oral Adrenaline guy, or whoever he was, and you’re like totally all into penis, or something. And, I know there’s like a subzero chance of you reciprocating these feelings, and I’m probably making a fool out of myself-” 

“Santana,” Rachel begins, but her interjection of Santana’s long exhale of words goes entirely unheard. 

“-Because, god, who would have ever thought that I would have a crush on Rachel Berry? The girl whose life I made a living hell for three years? If you told that to sophomore me I would probably have punched you in the face. Because no offence but you were super fucking annoying, and I mean, you still kind of are… and saying that probably isn’t helping my case but my point is it doesn’t matter! It’s pathetic as fuck but everything that used to make me _ want _to punch you in the face, now just makes me want to ki-”

“Santana,” Rachel tries again, her cheeks a little flushed this time, the smile on her lips gently as she squeezes Santana’s hands. But once again, to no avail, and the monologue continues. 

“-But I just thought… maybe, you know? Maybe? And that was probably stupid, and so egocentric of me because I’ve always been such an asshole to you, and you’re too good for me, Rachel Berry, anyone could tell you that. You’re going to be a big Broadway Star, and I’ll probably work at the Spotlight Diner for the rest of my life, but… But I just thought maybe, okay? I… thought maybe, and I didn’t want to let a thing like this slip away. Because I don’t feel stuff like this very often, and if I wasted the opportunity to tell you how I _ feel _ and then found out that I don’t know, I could have? Then I… I’d…” 

“Santana!” Rachel takes advantage of the brief lull in Santana’s word vomit, squeezing her hands firmly, her exclamation drawing Santana’s attention to her face. “Are you finished?”

Blinking a few times in rapid succession, Santana falters, and then nods. “Yeah, I guess I’m finished.”

“Good. I thought you were about to pass out from oxygen deprivation,” Rachel huffs out a quiet chuckle, lips curling upwards a little more, “Can I speak now?”

Narrowing her eyes for a second, Santana nods. “Assuming you’re not going to ask me to emigrate to Canada and acquire a bear cub, then yes.”

Rachel smiles a little more, and Santana begins to notice the fact that she’s definitely not mad. Nor does she seem surprised, or taken aback, or embarrassed… These are definitely all good signs. 

“Okay. I’ll start with this; I know there’s a common widespread idea amongst my peers that I’m as straight as a ruler, and I’m not entirely sure where that came from, given the fact that I was raised in a household where I was taught that sexuality is fluid, and heterosexuality is never something I’ve labelled myself with,” Rachel begins, and she actually looks a little confused, but Santana’s barely able to pay attention to that because _ okay _Rachel just admitted that she’s not as masculinely oriented as she’d previously assumed. 

“I- wait, _ really _?” Santana is barely able to choke out, but Rachel’s continuing before she has time to say anymore. 

“And secondly, Santana, I’d like to ask in the politest way possible if you’re _ blind _ , because as far as I’m aware I have been flirting with you for the last four weeks to absolutely _ no _avail, on your end, aside from puppy dog eyes when you think I’m not looking, that Kurt has been teasing you about behind your back.”

Santana gapes at her for a moment, and then tries to splutter our a reply, and fails, before returning to gaping some more. Rachel has been _ flirting _ with her? _ When _? How did she miss that? She’s quite literally the queen of sapphic romance, there’s no way she missed flirty vibes.

“Y-you must’ve been doing it wrong,” she says eventually, unable to think of any alternate response, and Rachel quirks an eyebrow, laughing. 

“That’s really what you want to go with?” 

Blinking and then furrowing her brow in confusion, Santana stares at Rachel. “Wh- what?” she splutters, still feeling a little dumbfounded, and it’s clear her brain is taking its time to catch up, because she’s acting like a bumbling idiot right now. 

“I just told you I like you too, Santana,” Rachel says, voice falling to a hushed half-whisper as she moves a little closer, soft lips pressing together in a smile that has Santana’s insides feeling even mushier than before. “Don’t you think now would be the perfect time to kiss me?”

Her brain seems to come alive again just at this moment, because it only takes Santana a second to close the gap between them, true to Rachel’s request, capturing the lips that had just spoken those words a few moments ago, in her own. Their mouths move languidly against one another’s, and Santana almost hates herself for thinking about how it feels like a hundred different puzzle pieces finally fitting together _ just right _.

She’s kissed a lot of girls, but this feeling, this feeling of her thoughts spinning in an incoherent loop of bliss is something that she hasn’t encountered often at all. And Rachel’s kissing her with a dizzying passion that she would never have expected from _ her _, and god… Santana finds one of the hands that had just been in Rachel’s a few moments ago sliding into dark hair, tugging lightly at cascading curls as they melt into one another for a few more buzzing moments. 

When they finally break apart, both with lipstick smudged onto their skin and unfamiliar smiles on their lips, Rachel huffs out a breath of air and rests her forehead lightly against Santana’s. “I guess you’re not moving to Canada, then.”

A gentle hand scratches lightly at the base of her neck, and Santana feels soft fingers brushing against the tops of her shoulders in small affectionate motions. It makes her smile as she meets glowing brown eyes for the millionth time this evening. 

Except this time, it feels inexplicably different. 

It feels like everything is suddenly right. Like after months New York finally feels like _ home _, real home. 

And somehow Santana knows it has less to do with the city itself. Either way, everything just feels _ right _, it’s all falling into place and Santana just can’t wipe the smile from her face. 

“I guess not.” Santana pauses, leaning back a little to marvel at the sight of Rachel standing before the nighttime New York landscape. She receives a questioning glance combined with the gentlest smile that Santana has ever seen Rachel Berry give, and it only serves to widen her own. 

“This is home now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope this was a suitable ending ! let me know what you think, hope you enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it <3


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